The Faulty Firework
by Sherlock 2K
Summary: An explosion that injures the Queen seems like a random mishap. But is it? Please R/R ;) Flames are welcome ::hides under desk::
1. An Invitation

A/N: OK, just so you guys don't think I have DID or something, Sherlock 2K and I are kinda co-authors; we write everything together and post it under this name. K? Good. Understand FIRST AND FOREMOST that I own nobody in this story, not even the little ant crawling across the mantle in 221B Baker Street ;) Enjoy, peeplz! R/R! In case you're wondering, this is version 2 of the story. I had a few historical errors with the first version. I'm a Sherlockian, not a Holmesian!  
  
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Chapter 1  
  
Looking back upon many of our adventures together, I find that many stand out as significant in my mind. Being the Americans' Independence Day today and given its relation to fireworks, this case was immediately brought to mind.  
  
It was a dismal day in July. The typical gilded London façade was shrouded in a peculiar fog of sulphuric gas from the government factory that opened in the local shire. The factory itself was shrouded, though not by a physical fog-one of the mind. You see, many rumours surrounded it. No one knew what was manufactured in it. Some said new telegraph technology. Others said it was manufacturing illegal goods. Still others said it was no factory at all but a simply a nuisance imposed upon us by the new legislature. Whatever it was, it was heavily guarded.  
  
Holmes and I took refuge from the humdrum of the street life in our sitting room. He was meditating on some secret problem of his own, whilst I imagined how the Queen's Diamond Jubilee would be. An elegant party was would be held for her that night. It was an exclusive party, of course, for government officials only. Everyone said the gatherings were splendid, but what did they know?  
  
I was picturing her in her newest brocade gown when there was made audible footsteps upon the porch steps. Without moving an eyelid, Holmes cried out, "Mycroft, how nice of you to stop by! Please, the door is unlocked."  
  
While I sat, bewildered, Mycroft entered with a broad smile upon his face. That was only the fourth time Mycroft had the courtesy to pay his brother a visit. Of course, the other three times were when he was in need of help.  
  
"I shan't ask how you knew it was I, but I have the most wonderful news! You have both been invited to the Diamond Jubilee!"  
  
I was speechless. No doubt through Mycroft's government connections he'd gotten us in.  
  
"Yes, a ticket for each of you! Be there tonight. It's on the mall in front of the palace."  
  
"What o'clock?" I asked.  
  
"Promptly at six."  
  
"I'm not sure if we can make it," said Sherlock.  
  
"But why ever not?" inquired his brother.  
  
"This could be the opportunity of a lifetime!"  
  
After a moment of hesitation, he gave in.  
  
"Excellent! See you there. I am off to finish a case. Adieu!" Mycroft left with his singularly extravagant air and left us dumbfounded. The Diamond Jubilee! A dream become a reality. It was absolutely amazing!  
  
"What do you say, Watson? Let's get ready and be early!"  
  
Just like Holmes, never lazy. We got dressed in our finest Sunday clothes and called a hansom over to our residence. The cabby seemed surprised when we gave him our destination, but we were there in less than ten minutes.  
  
Buckingham Palace was stunning. Everything was as the people said: beautiful gardens, sculptures and tapestries everywhere, and guards that seemed as though they were also statues. They guards did not move until we tried to enter the palace doors, when they halted us and asked our business here.  
  
"Who are you?"  
  
"This is my friend Watson, and you may call me Sherlock Holmes."  
  
"Holmes? I apologise, sir! Please enter!"  
  
I could not hold back a laugh as I saw the guards' amazement at the presence of Holmes and I. Nonetheless, I was just as amazed to see the interior of the palace. Ornate gold that I doubted was leaf, crystal chandeliers, elegant busts, it was all amazing. A butler saw to us immediately and made sure we were comfortable until six o'clock.  
  
I found myself exceedingly bored after a short period. I attempted to begin a conversation with my companion. "What do you think so far, Holmes?"  
  
"I think nothing of it."  
  
"Oh, come on! You must be enjoying this, too!"  
  
He sat and smiled and meditated for the remainder of our wait.  
  
"Holmes, you are a peculiar soul."  
  
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These will all probably be short chapters, so bear with me. Review time! Thx! 


	2. Fireworks

A/N: I own nothing at all in this story except the plot.hehe. I hope you like it!  
  
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Chapter 2  
  
We awoke promptly at five thirty. We passed the hours with idle chat ranging from Mozart to minced liver casserole until the loud bugle calls that signalled the approach of Her Majesty the Queen of Britain sounded.  
  
"Ah, Watson! Time to begin the ceremonies. Follow the crowd!"  
  
We left and found the courtyard a completely different place. Elegant wooden chairs adorned the lawn, and a stone stage had been set up opposite the audience. They began seating the honoured guests immediately upon our arrival. We were seated near the centre aisle, about a dozen or so rows back.  
  
As soon as dusk approached, the bugles sounded again and Her Majesty appeared as the anthem played. Words could not begin to describe her appearance. She was clothed in shimmering brocade and ornate gold that complemented her appearance despite her age. She approached the podium and gave her speech. It left me dumbfounded that such an elegant woman could also be so intelligent.  
  
At the conclusion of her speech, yet more bugles signalled a magnificent fireworks display that was the end of the first part of the ceremony.  
  
"Ah, Stannous sulphate! Magnesium bromide!" Holmes insisted upon listing the elements in each grand explosion.  
  
Suddenly, with a brilliant flash and a thunderous roar, the remainder of the fireworks exploded. Not in the sky, but on the ground behind the stage! The audience scattered, and cries filled the air.  
  
"How untimely! Just after the potassium sulphide." The guards began ushering everyone out.  
  
It was simply an unusually unfortunate mishap. We thought nothing of it until the following morning, when a telegram arrived. It ran as such:  
  
Sherlock-  
  
The agency needs your help Stop  
  
Come to palace at noon Stop  
  
Your assistance will be appreciated Stop  
  
1.1 Lestrade  
  
"A police matter? Interesting. It's almost noon, Watson. We'd better be off!" And with that, a hansom swept us off to Buckingham Palace for perhaps one of the most exciting adventures of our time.  
  
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Hmmm, that was short. Oh, well! What did u think? Reviews, please! 


	3. Investigating

A/N: OK, once again, I own close to nothing in this story. Heck, I own NOTHING AT ALL here. Anyway, I hope you like this chapter. I tried to make this an interesting investigation. ;)  
  
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Chapter 3  
  
We reached the scene shortly past the hour, and were surprised to see that Lestrade had withheld his "troops" until our arrival, for Holmes was always angered by their disorganisation.  
  
"Happy, Holmes?" inquired an impatient Lestrade. A simple "yes" was his response.  
  
"Nothing has been touched, I presume?" he asked.  
  
"Nothing at all, save the ground."  
  
"Hum, the event's large attendance will make it hard to search for anything. So, what has made this simple mishap a police affair?"  
  
"Her Majesty has been receiving threats the past few days. The party was mentioned in the most recent."  
  
"Have you any of these?"  
  
"Yes, the last three."  
  
"Let me see them."  
  
The notes were written with a most illegible scrawl. The first read:  
  
[Watch out. Your time is almost up. Only 3 more days.] "As you see, that was three days ago," commented Lestrade. "This is from two days ago:"  
  
[The police ?can not help you. Time to find a new queen!] "And the third, Lestrade?"  
  
[See? you at the party--for the last time!]  
  
"Excellent. Time to go to work." We set off through the courtyard searching for anything that may help us.  
  
He hadn't even pulled out his lens yet, but was quickly striding toward the fireworks stand. Or should I say the crater where it used to stand! The explosion had blown apart the launch pad and had left a remarkable indentation upon the mall.  
  
Holmes first walked over to an intact piece of the launch pad. It was a sheet of some extremely durable metal, possibly steel, for the Queen could surely afford it. It was approximately one foot by five, to keep the missile on trajectory.  
  
He then moved into the pit itself. It was a charred mass of plant material and soil, save some shards of metal at the bottom.  
  
"Watson, stay here. I trust you will not be offended, for you know my methods."  
  
He left me for his lens at this time, and began searching up and down the crater, mainly in the centre. He went on like this for some minutes.  
  
"Halloah! Aha!" Apparently he'd found whatever it was he was looking for. We jumped out and without a word left for the hansom.  
  
"Thank you for your time, Lestrade. You may raid the premises."  
  
"What? You have everything you need to make a case?"  
  
"Perhaps. You may see me back if my hypothesis fails, but it seems to hold fast so far."  
  
********  
  
The ride home was a silent one. Holmes sat meditating, while I observed the mundanes of the city. When we arrived at 221B Baker Street, Sherlock simply walked into our lodgings. I had to pay the driver and thank him.  
  
I had barely stepped inside when Holmes began performing tests upon whatever it was he found in the crater. I sighed and retired to my rooms, for I knew I would not hear a word from Holmes for a few days.  
  
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Interesting, no? I tried to work in what Doyle would have said in this chapter. I need reviews, please! 


	4. The Irregulars Lend a Hand

A/N: Everything here is property of Sir Conan Doyle, k? This is my first fanfic (my friend who's co-authoring with me wrote Ultimate Challenge), so please, review, review, review!  
  
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Chapter 4  
  
All I heard from below was a series of bangs every few minutes for a few days. However, upon the fifth day, I awoke at three o'clock in the morning to a startling "Aha!" from the chamber below. I dressed and flew downstairs immediately.  
  
"Watson, we're so close! Do me the largest favour possible and round up the Irregulars." I did as he asked, while he prepared for what was to be another of his mysterious outings. As soon as all the Irregulars arrived, he put them to work.  
  
"I have here a map of the area surrounding Buckingham Palace. A shilling for each of you to find all possible agents of Moran within a half- mile radius of the Palace that live on or above the third floor." The children raced off in search of the information Holmes sought.  
  
"I'll be off, now. Feel free to do whatever in my absence. I should be back by supper." He, too, left me to my lonesome. I busied myself with the London Times during his absence. Not surprisingly, there were still articles in the paper about the faulty firework.  
  
Perhaps I should recap. It turned out that six were killed, eleven critically wounded. Most unfortunately, the Queen was number eleven. We were surprised to find that Lestrade wasn't jumping to conclusions in this case.  
  
There was also a particularly disturbing article about Mr. Terrene of the shoe shop being shot. Holmes was singularly disturbed. He left on one of his peculiar outings, and returned with what I gathered was a satisfied air.  
  
Anyway, I passed the hours until circa three o'clock, when the Irregulars returned. "Ah, Holmes is out right now. Well, what have you found on this most unusual errand?"  
  
Wiggins handed me a list of a dozen men that were or had previously worked for Moran that matched Holmes' criteria. I replied with a silver shilling for each of them, and they left as quickly as they came.  
  
********  
  
Holmes returned not a moment late for supper, which absolutely amazed me.  
  
"Holmes, this has been an interesting case, indeed. All of us have changed our habits!"  
  
"Well, Watson, the Queen is an important figure in British life. Now, let's see what Mrs. Hudson has brought us!"  
  
As we dined, I told him of the day's bringing. He took the list with eager hands, and glanced over it quickly.  
  
"Ah, Watson! There we have it!"  
  
"What? You've solved the case?"  
  
"Very nearly. Only one thing left to do." He wrote a telegram and had it sent with an urgent stamp upon it. "Come, Watson, we must be going."  
  
"Where?"  
  
"The shoe shop. Oh, and bring your revolver."  
  
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Ooh, an air of mystery! Please review! 


	5. Everything Must Come to An End

A/N: This chapter was REALLY short, so I included the epilogue in here. The end of the line for this story! I's love it if you could review, please. Some ideas for another story would be welcome, too! BTW, everything in here is not my property. ;)  
  
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Chapter 5  
  
We made a quick stop at the police station, picked up Lestrade, and made our way to Terrene's Shoe Shop for whatever reason. Could the shooting be related to the firework?  
  
Having reached our destination, we paid the driver of the hansom and went into a dark alley beside the shop. Shortly after, a short man in a trenchcoat approached. Holmes stepped out, and said something to him, before leading him over to the wall. Suddenly, the man shouted out, "You're not Davison's agent!" and made a run for it. We had no choice but to follow him over walls, under litter bins, and around buildings, all the time firing at each other.  
  
We finally reached a high brick wall, where our pursuit ended. The man had one last trick up his sleeve, though. He found a crack in the wall just large enough for him to fit through. Sherlock, with his thin, gaunt body, was the only one able to follow. Lestrade and I could only wait.  
  
After only a few seconds, though, Sherlock returned with the man, who seemed to be unconscious. "There you have him, Lestrade. Master Achlyos Merides."  
  
A bewildered Lestrade replied, "Well, let's get him back to headquarters."  
  
Epilogue  
  
The man confessed to everything. As usual, Lestrade and I were dying to know just how Sherlock did it.  
  
"It began with the death threats. This was no spur-of-the-moment deal, it was all preplanned. If you will look more carefully at the threats, you will notice that the number three is written in blue ink, not black. They had to have written the note beforehand, perhaps planning to use it at a different time, then written in the three with a different pen.  
  
"Also, the Greek 'e' implies Greek ancestry. I deduced that our man was Greek quite easily.  
  
"This is where it gets a bit complicated. If you were paying attention during the explosion, you'd have seen that it flashed green for a moment, then red. This implied a momentary presence of copper in the magnesium sulphide firework. That's what I was looking for in the crater: a small piece of copper. It did, however, impose a new query upon us.  
  
"You must have heard the small explosions inside the living chamber, Watson. I was trying to recreate the green-and-red explosion. After four days, I deemed it impossible. I ruled out many possibilities until the only one left was that the copper was a foreign mass that triggered the explosion of the firework. A bullet? That was the only possible way. Just enough speed, just hot enough.  
  
"But a copper bullet? Most bullets, as you know, are either aluminium, lead, or steel. Why copper? I figured that it had to be some government top-secret model of bullet.  
  
"Sure enough, I conferred with Mycroft and he confessed to the existence of the copper ammunition. That is the purpose of the new factory, but for the sake of secrecy, I trust you won't tell anyone in the unfortunate case of a deja-vous.  
  
"The shooting of Mr. Terrene was an unfortunate mishap. After examining the room, I found a bullet hole in the wall that lined up with his wound. Therefore, an outsider shot him accidentally. The bullet was, as I suspected, copper. This meant that either someone had broken into the high-security government offices, or it was someone on the inside. I know most of the workers in Mycroft's offices simply from my visits, so the only task was to figure out who it could have been. You see, eight of my acquaintances there are Greek.  
  
"As you saw, the firework stands were made of bullet-proof metal about five feet high. I calculated that only someone on the third floor or above could have managed to send a bullet over that from such a distance. That was the purpose of the Irregulars: to find any possible agents within that area so I attempt to match someone on the list with one of the eight possibilities. It was a slim chance, but behold the powers of luck, I found Mr. Merides.  
  
"We needed only apprehend him. I lured him to Terrene's, which was obviously the location of the secret meetings to sell the bullets. He took the bait, and we caught him."  
  
"Excellent, Holmes!"  
  
"Yes, however do you do it?"  
  
I had just one question, though. "Who is Davison?"  
  
"Ah, just an alias I made up. It worked!"  
  
In the end, the three of us were awarded medals by Her Majesty. After that ceremony (with no fireworks, thank goodness), we returned to 221B Baker Street. Before we even had a chance to have a smoke, a woman knocked upon our door. A new case had begun!  
  
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EVIL IS AFOOT!!!!!  
  
OK, wateva. Just had to get that out of my system. ;) What did you think? As I said, that was my first Fic, so review! 


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